


My Head is an Animal

by TheSaintRyan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaintRyan/pseuds/TheSaintRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The wolf can smell the tension in the air, the pangs of emotion breezing off of Stiles.  It's been almost a year, nine long months and for once the young man is quiet.  “Stiles I'm-”</p><p>“I know.”  He says, and the wolf is confused and proud and happy for some reason. Happy in the midst of all his sorrow.  They arrive at the small coffee shop and Stiles orders something with far too much sugar for this hour.  Derek orders his coffee black."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Head is an Animal

Summer nights in Beacon Hills are hot and heavy, too quiet; as if the thick air were smothering noise. Derek Hale roams the streets, aimless. Hazel-green eyes glance across the street and halt, nose twitching at the familiar scent, and anchor: Stiles. 

The younger man exits a smoke shop, lighting up a clove cigarette. Music bounces across the air into Derek's ears, it's acoustic and beautiful: The wolf inside him mumbles to itself and he approaches. “Stiles” he says, simply, and then “Stiles” he says, louder. Stiles turns, his face lost in concentration at first: Derek's eyes are drawn to the red sweatshirt and rise to meet bright golden eyes swallowed by a widening smile. “Well if it isn't the Big Bad Wolf!” The boy jokes and Derek smiles somewhere deep inside. Stiles' full lips draw smoke from the clove and a stream of smoke billows out the side some seconds later. Derek inhales deeply, and asks, “What are you doing? When did you start smoking?”  
“In college, last fall.”  
The wolf rumbles deep in it's chest; has it been that long, already?

The boy smiles defiantly, offering some of the cigarette to Derek. He obliges, taking several deep drags of the sweet spiced smoke. “Anyway,” Stiles begins, “I came back for the summer and spent last week with my dad. Saw Scott and Allison-” The wolf bristles, slightly, at the mention of that indignant pup. “-yesterday and they're doing good but you've been here so I guess you know. How are you doing, Derek?” The man had been thinking about years past and his sharp eyes snap to meet Stiles' soft eyes, and he pauses for seconds too long, thinking. How is he doing? “Fine.” He chokes out. This isn't easy, as it was summers ago. Stiles forges ahead- “That's good. I've- I've thought about you a lot.”

Derek looms, quietly. “Same,” he states. Stiles' dark hair is much longer than he wore it in High School; Derek can't help but reach out to run his fingers through it. The younger boy smiles and laughs, a little. “So,” Derek begins, “wanna get some coffee?” His voice sounded frailer than he'd have liked, but Stiles nods and says “Sure.” They walk quietly, Stiles still smoking that sickly sweet cigarette. 

The wolf can smell the tension in the air, the pangs of emotion breezing off of Stiles. It's been almost a year, nine long months and for once the young man is quiet. “Stiles I'm-”

“I know.” He says, and the wolf is confused and proud and happy for some reason. Happy in the midst of all his sorrow. They arrive at the small coffee shop and Stiles orders something with far too much sugar for this hour. Derek orders his coffee black. He sips quietly, eying the boy across from him; but he isn't a boy anymore and Derek can't help but notice the changes. How he has filled out, how his eyes aren't as bright, though they're still molten gold. How his lips sit together more than stand apart. The wolf scents the air, enjoying what it finds, and quiets down. Derek glances down in between small talk, pulls off his leather jacket and gazes through his heavy lids at the man before him. The younger man has likewise abandoned his red sweatshirt. They chat about the classes Stiles is taking, all very advanced stuff, and how his dad is doing, “I mean, his cholesterol is still worrying, especially since he's on his own now but he's doing better.” They talk about what Derek has been up to, “Same stuff.” And it feels so abnormally... normal that the wolf is quiet for the first time since Stiles left for school.

“I figure I have to find what I want to be sooner or later if I just keep taking every class that catches my eye.” Stiles jokes, as if he hasn't known since High School what he wants to do with his life. Derek laughs a little. It's more than he's laughed in nine months; it leaves him gasping. 

By now it's early, not late, so Derek is surprised when Stiles suggests that they walk down to the waterfront. It's too warm, so Stiles carries his sweatshirt in his arms while Derek slings his jacket over his shoulders. The wolf warily eyes bony hands as they pull the black pack and a lighter from a pocket and light up another cigarette, offering one to Derek. Once again he obliges, inhaling deeply. A car alarm goes off somewhere in the distance, and the wolf growls in annoyance as Stiles relays a story about a party he went to last month and how he ended up on the roof naked. Derek laughs again, feeling his cheeks strain. He hasn't exercised his zygomatic major muscle in a while.

They sit, quietly at first, on a bench looking across the water. Derek glances around, checks out their surroundings out of habit. The wolf is on guard, but nothing seems too alarming. Seagulls chatter and waves crash calmly to shore. It isn't back to normal, but it's a start.

Stiles coughs, and then lights up a third cigarette. “Those'll kill you.” Derek says, and Stiles laughs. “If werewolves and witches and kanima couldn't kill me, I'm not too concerned about cigarettes.” Derek has no argument to that; so he just smiles and grabs the pack from Stiles' pocket, lighting one up a little too desperately. There are so many things that he wants to say but instead he just asks to hear another story. Stiles' eyes gleam in the streetlight above them and he inhales smoke sharply.  
“Alright well, there was this girl-” the wolf's ears perked up “-I guess. Selena. She was in my macroeconomics class and she was just.. so gorgeous and funny and refreshingly intelligent. After class one day I asked her if she wanted to grab some lunch. She agreed and I was shocked. We went to this asian-fusion bistro, whatever that means, and we laughed when we both ordered the spicy pork teriyaki and we talked about our classes and where we were from and everything else and she was just.. great. Until her boyfriend called her.”

Stiles turned his bright eyes to the left. Derek sat, jaw clenched, fisting his leather jacket and staring out to sea. After a beat Derek's eyes shifted right and he realized he hadn't given any sort of response so he blurted “What the hell is asian-fusion?” Stiles laughed hard, and after catching his breath replied “I don't know. Tasted like Chinese food to me.” Derek chorused a laugh as crows started cackling in the distance. “You know wolfy-” Derek growled quietly at the nickname “-I really haven't dated anyone. Not for lack of trying. So try not to get so jealous you consider seeking out any girl I mention and ripping her throat out.”

“I wasn't jealous.”  
“Derek, I don't need to be a wolf to feel the rage coming from you as soon as I mentioned her.”  
Derek stood abruptly, dismissively. “Where else can we go at-” he checks the time on his phone- “three in the morning?” Stiles pondered for a moment and then replied with a grin, “Where's the closest park with swings?”

As soon as the park was in sight Stiles raced ahead like a child, as if he had to make sure he made it to the swings before any other kids. Derek stood nearby as the young man propelled himself back and forth, back and forth. “Are you going to join me, or just loom in the darkness over there?” As if Derek had any choice, he stood for a moment longer making exaggerated “hmmmms” of deep thought, before sitting next to Stiles and grabbing another cigarette. He stared at the tobacco for a moment before a flash of flame in front of him made him jump back- consequently falling out of the swing and onto his back. He growled again, regaining his composure before letting Stiles light the cigarette for him. His lips twisted themselves around it angrily. The swings squeaking was the only noise he could hear, other than the ever-present gulls calling out across unknown lengths of air, so he allowed himself to calm down, for the moment, and enjoy himself for the first time in months.

They swing, idly chatting, until Stiles blurts; “We should go swimming. It's so hot!” Derek sighs, “didn't we just get here?” Then mumbles in agreement, and they begin walking to Derek's car. The black Camaro breezes along the road, and when they arrive at a secluded lake Stiles leaps from the vehicle, sprinting to the shore and halting so suddenly the wolf glances around in alarm. “We don't have any towels.” Derek says simply. Stiles shrugs, and pulls off his shirt. Derek notices again how he's changed- muscles more defined. There is a small patch of dark hair in the center of his chest that runs down to his navel, pausing there before traveling farther- the line of hair and his hipbones form an arrow that Derek can't help but follow down, down, until the wolf growls in wanton need and hunger. Derek pulls off his shirt and he can feel golden eyes grazing his body. He can smell the sultry pang of arousal, though its origin is unknown.  
Stiles strips to his underwear, and when he turns to Derek the older man stifles a laugh and rolls his eyes at the batman logo situated over the younger man's crotch. Derek drops his pants and his black underwear cling to him. He can see the dare in Stiles' honey-wine eyes and they simultaneously let the last of their clothing fall, and the wolf cries out with need- legitimate need, and Derek has to force himself to not cry out with it, before the two of them plunge into the water.

The water is a welcome distraction and they swim around leisurely, quiet for a while. The lake is small, it would only take a matter of minutes to swim it shore to shore in any direction; willow trees drape themselves like narcissus, branches barely brushing the glassy water; on the far side is a single, out-of-date lamp post which casts an eerie ochre glow over them. The light makes Stiles’ eyes shine with mischief and the cast shadows make a villain of his features. Stormy green eyes meet gold and linger, once again Stiles raises an eyebrow and smirks, asking or begging or pleading or daring. Derek catches him with one arm, pulls him in and their lips crash together. Passion drowns out romance and the kiss is heated; ferocious. Stiles bites at the older man's bottom lip and elicits a deep growl from him. They break apart for breath and Stiles laughs, “I was wondering when that was coming. It's been too long, Derek.” Derek growls in reply and catches pink lips between his teeth, his hand finding the boy's neck before pulling him close. The kiss is like a neutron star collision: Slow to come but intense and powerful. They tease each other, the wolf howls desperately in the back of Derek's mind. Derek hisses against Stiles' mouth and Stiles gasps sharply, running a thin hand down the older man's chest. The contact is searing and Derek shudders and smiles. Derek feels nine months younger and infinitely lighter. Until lights suddenly shine on them from the shore. Stiles glances over and chokes out several noises at once, culminating with a frustrated, “Is that my DAD?!”

“Stiles. Hale.” The Sheriff addresses them with equal parts contempt and amusement, “This lake is on some private property, unfortunately, so you-” he points to Stiles “-will have to come with me. And you,” he continues, eyes leveling on Derek, “will have to go somewhere else.”

Stiles groans like he's sixteen again and steps out of the water, turning back to Derek and flirting with his eyes as his dad turns awkwardly away from his nude son. He pulls his clothes on and gets into his dad's charger. Derek waits until they leave to exodus the lake and drive to the remains of the Hale house.

The quiet light of dawn blankets the outside of his home, and almost succeeds in making it look pleasant. Inside, however, the reddish light stretches shadows and makes the place look lonelier, if possible, than it is. Derek's frustrated anguish leaves him and sweeps the halls in a keening echo that mocks him until it fades away like the rest of the spectres that once haunted these infernal halls. Derek exercises his frustration away; exorcises his demons. But still, he calls out lonely and aching.  
Sleep finds him with trepidation, but the dreams come quickly.

 

_Honey wine eyes crack and leak as candied pink lips admit what the wolf has expected. His fur stands erect and his back arches in fury, in baleful disappointment, in rage. The wolf barks out a reply and the boy flinches, tears rolling down his cheeks acrid and caustic. “You think I want this, Derek?” Stiles' shouts. “You think I haven't tortured myself enough for both of us already?” The wolf shakes its head slowly as the boy chokes out a wavering sob. “It's not fair,” The wolf mumbles. After sixteen seasons of slowly opening his broken heart to the last person he'd ever thought, to lose this. To lose one more person, is too much. “I'm sorry,” the boy says turning away, as Derek's heart cracks once more._  
The ghost of Stiles' laugh follows the wolf down every hall; finds his ears among the static silence, until the beast screams to chase it away. He follows the golden trail of his lovers scent, the citrus of passion and the nectar of honest caring, throughout the property and finds it among the pillows and sheets of Derek's bed. He curls up into it and just breathes, breathes it in until it's gone and everything reeks of dust and the dank of loneliness.  
The wolf's heart finds small solace in the short time they'd been together, since Stiles had said “Don't you get it, Wolfy? Are you that dense or do you just not want to admit the truth? I love you, okay? And I know you feel the same way. I don't need to be a wolf to smell it on you.”

Derek's eyes snap open as he hears the soft drumbeat of feet approaching. He steps out the front door as he pulls on a shirt and views Stiles with amusement. “Well that was, interesting..” the boy begins, and Derek agrees wholeheartedly. Then Stiles is running up the stairs and crashing their lips together again in a quiet riot and Derek is breathing in every ounce of heavenly scent he can; his heart flutters and the wolf calls out with angst. They break their lips apart and Stiles' dark hair finds Derek's broad shoulder and they stand for minutes or hours or days and simply exist together. “You know,” Stiles speaks into the black cotton stretching over Derek's skin, “I'm going to have to leave again.” And Derek growls quietly, “I know. But I'm not letting you leave me here again.”

Stiles laughs and Derek's ears revere in the simple beauty of such a noise. “I wouldn't dream of it,” ghosts the breath on his shoulder and the wolf keens softly. Then it's lips on his and Derek realizes how much delight he takes in pretty things, like this.


End file.
